SOBEIDE (stepping back). Oh, I am raving! My head's to blame, for that I hear thee speaking Quite other words than those thou really utter'st. O Ganem, help me! Have thou patience with me, What day is this today? GANEM. Why ask that now? SOBEIDE. 'Twill not be always so, 'tis but from fear, And then because I've had to feel too much In this one fleeting night; that has confused me. _This_ was my wedding-day: then when alone With him, my husband, I did weep and said It was because of thee. He oped the door And let me out.-- GANEM. He has the epilepsy, I'll wager, sought fresh air. Thou art too foolish! Let me undo thy hair and kiss thy neck. But then go quickly home: what happens later Shall be much better than this first beginning. [He tries to draw her to him.] SOBEIDE (frees herself, steps back). Ganem, he oped the door for me, and said I was no more his wife, and I might go Where'er I would ... My father free of debt ... And he would let me go where'er I would ... To thee, to thee! [She bursts into sobs.] I ran, there was the man who took away My pearls and would have slain me-- And then the dogs-- (With the pitiable expression of one forsaken.) And now I'm here with thee! GANEM (inattentively, listening intently up stage). I think I hear some music, hear'st it thou?-- 'Tis from below. SOBEIDE. Thy face and something else, Ganem, fill me with a mighty fear-- Hark not to that, hear me! hear me, I beg thee! Hear me, that here beneath thy glance am lying With open soul, whose ebb and flow of blood Proceeds but from the changes of thy mien. Thou once didst love me--that, I think, is past-- For what came then, I only am to blame: Thy brightness waxed within my gloomy soul Like moons in fog-- [GANEM listens as before. SOBEIDE with growing wildness.] Suppose thou loved me not: Why didst thou lie? If I was aught to thee, Why hast thou lied to me? O speak to me-- Am I not worth an answer? [Weird music and voices are heard outside.] GANEM. Yes, by heaven. It is the old man's voice and Guelistane's!